An overly-eager artist being welcomed into the industry is taken on a bumpy ride as she learns life does not have as many sunny days as she thought. Within the process, she comes to learn that her tour guide is a lot more important to her than she e...
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"You ready?" I ask, rubbing both of her chilly, goosebump ridden arms. She's looking everywhere but at me. I know she's losing her cool. As always, she's thinking of the extremities instead of the basics. I understand her discomfort but this ain't for play. This is a job, a job that has to be done. I thought she'd rather kiss me than some stranger who'd cop a cheap feel. "Hey," I call out to her as I pinch her forearm. She snatches her arm away, looking at me with an annoyed glare. "Christopher Tracy and Mary Sharon." Refusing to take my words as comfort, she smacks her lips. "Would I lie to you?"
"Yes."
She's right. I would.
Laughing with a shake of my head, I pull myself together as I retain my calm exterior. If she stops playing games maybe we can get something done and it'll all be over with. "Ain't that all acting is?" I slip back into the booth and position myself.
She hesitantly follows as if I didn't just say time is money. That's Lyric for you. She swears she's got all the time in the world to think as if her pausing keeps things from making the world go 'round. Once she is positioned, I give Marc the signal.
We're set and ready. The slate-board is clicked.
I leap forward, showering her with affection, as I refuse to think about it. She isn't the only one that's nervous but I know how to look past my nerves as her's eat away at her confidence. I take her in by the lips. The feeling of resistance resembles prickly needles standing up on the surface of a succulent plant. Kiss me. I want her to really kiss me. Why is she just letting me eat her lips? I want her to kiss me like she means it... Kiss me like we're stuck up against each other in this itty bitty telephone booth because we are.
Lyric tries to breathe through her mouth and she almost chokes. Pulling away, she gasps from a breath as I give the signal to Marc to stop the shot. "Cut!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." She repeats her apology over and over. I know she's anxious but, if she can shake her ass on a car, why can't she do this? "I didn't know what to do!"
"First rule of intimate scenes," I inhale and exhale through my nose, "Breathe through your nose." I open the door to bring in fresh oxygen. I'm no claustrophobe, it's just tight in here. Turning back to Lyric I take her by her hands. "Relax... Mary wants Christopher. This is a moment of connection. All you gotta' do is be cool and live in it." I massage her hands, hoping and praying that she's able to calm down enough that she can comfortably perform the task at our hands.
I watch all of her worries leave the vicinity. A flicker in her eye brightens her stare as a fire is ignited. Confidently, or as confident as she can be, Lyric tells me, "I got it. I got you, let's go. Take two." Her nodding is more for herself rather than me, I assume.
